


A Delicate Balance

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/F, Open Relationships, fashion closet sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 06:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: Jane has a good pitch but Jacqueline shoots it down. Jane wants to know why.





	A Delicate Balance

**Author's Note:**

> This summary sucks, I'm sorry.

“Alright!” Jacqueline announces, shedding her jacket and vest as she makes her way around the conference room to her designated seat at the head of the table. Poor Andrew is trailing behind her, barely catching every article before he has to hand her her phone and notepad. 

 

Jane barely suppresses the smile on her face, checking her out as casually as she can manage before Jacqueline flops down beside her. 

 

“Sorry I’m late,” She adds, typing a quick message on her phone, speaking to everyone and no one. “My meeting ran long and then my town car broke down. What is it about heat waves that makes everything go wrong?”

 

Jane’s eyes trail down Jacqueline’s low cut top, her mind briefly wandering off to the previous night, to Jacqueline’s hand between her own legs as she sat astride Jane, having dared her to keep her hands to herself. 

 

She visibly shivers and manages to cover it with a cough, but Jacqueline shoots her a very quick glance that tells Jane she’s caught that, followed by a pursing of the lips that further tells Jane she needs to get her shit together and focus. 

 

“Let’s make this quick, shall we?” Jacqueline continues, “I had a very productive traffic jam on the way over here looking over your pitches. If I did not reply, you need to give me more, so, let’s spitball.” 

 

A quick glance at her phone tells Jane her pitch was not approved, but that can’t be right because it was a good one. It was a really good one. She must have not seen it. With a  brief flick of her pen, she gets Jacqueline’s attention and suggests, “What about Scissor Shaming: how same sex-sex in porn isn’t always a product of the male gaze?” 

 

“Wasn’t that your first pitch?” 

 

“Uh,” Jane stammers, “Yeah, yes. I thought maybe you had missed it.”

 

“No,” Jacqueline replies with a tight little smirk that is reserved for those treading on thin ice. “I read it. Anybody else?” 

 

“What about Socialist Republicans? There’s this community in--”

 

“Okay, but,” Jane cuts in, “Sorry. I was actually thinking about how the queer community, more specifically, women who date women, tend to shame other queer women out of certain sexual acts because of how they’re portrayed in male-directed porn, except a lot of these acts are not as mythical as they make them out to be.” 

 

“Yeah,” Jacqueline says, giving Jane a curt nod, “That was the jist of it. Problem is, we already have a sex and relationships column.”

 

“Oh, I don’t mind--” comes Sage’s suggestion before Jacqueline shoots her down with a single glance. 

 

“Yes, but I do mind. Think of something else, Jane. Anybody else?” 

 

Twenty minutes of quiet fuming pass by before the meeting is finally over and Jane follows Jacqueline straight through to her office, where she waits for Andrew to clear out to shut the door and quietly ask, “Uh, what was that back there?” 

 

“What was what?” Jacqueline briefly acknowledges Jane before settling behind her desk.

 

“That was a good pitch. What didn’t you like about it?” 

 

Jacqueline shrugs, “Nothing specifically, it just didn’t grab me.” 

 

“It’s about hot lesbian sex, what about it didn’t grab you?” 

 

“It’s about--” Jacqueline answer loudly, then stops to lower her voice, “It’s not just lesbian sex in general, it’s about sex with  _ me _ , Jane, and I don’t want to risk anyone having...material for some tacky angle on Page Six with a picture of us at brunch or something.” 

 

“Tacky Angle could be the headline.” That gets her a glare and she laughs. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m sorry. I will think of something else.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Okay. Don’t be mad at me.”

 

“I’m not,” Jacqueline snaps, but her eyes are trained on her computer screen. 

 

“You look hot today,” Jane tries and smiles when Jacqueline finally looks up her. “There she is.” 

 

“We haven’t tried strap-ons.”

 

“What?” 

 

“You mentioned strap-ons in your pitch, did you try them with--someone else?” 

 

Jane starts to laugh but Jacqueline’s continued seriousness stops her immediately. “What? No!” 

 

“Shh!” 

 

“No, it was just like, a general list of things, you know? Tribbing, face-sitting, strap-ons. I haven’t--I’m not seeing anyone else, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

 

“Oh,” Jacqueline says, suddenly unable to stop moving things around her her desk. “No, I wasn’t asking that, that’s your prerogative, to sleep with whomever you want, I was just curious. That’s all.”

 

“Jacqueline.” 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“ _ Jacqueline _ ,” Jane presses, leaning over the chair she’s standing behind to get her attention, “Are you jealous?” 

 

Jacqueline snorts at that. “Definitely not.” 

 

“Oh, my god, you’re adorable.” 

 

“Stop it.” 

 

“You’re this close to pouting and you’re so cute.” 

 

Paired with an eye roll, Jacqueline shakes her head and rolls her shoulders back. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not jealous.” 

 

Jane briefly bites her lip and laughs again, “Will you please meet me in the fashion closet so I can kiss you? Please?”

 

“No.”

 

“ _ Please _ .”

 

“I’m working.”

 

“Jacqueline, PLEASE. Five--maybe ten minutes.” She’s out the door before Jacqueline can say no again, dropping her notepad and phone on her desk on her way to the closet. Two minutes pass and the door opens.

 

“I am not jealous!” Is the first and last thing Jacqueline says before Jane kisses her, pushing her against the door. 

 

Jacqueline instantly fists her hands in the fabric of Jane’s dress, pulling her flush against her.

 

“For someone who did not want to be kissed, you sure are grabby.” 

 

“Shut up,” Jacqueline grumbles, and then moans into Jane’s mouth when the she palms her breast. 

 

If someone had told Jane Sloan five years ago, that she would be feeling up Jacqueline Carlyle in the Scarlet fashion closet, she would have laughed in their face. But now she’s taking full advantage of her privileges with one handful of a perfect breast while the other works Jacqueline’s pants open only to have her grab her wrist the second Jane touches the waist of her underwear. 

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jacqueline pants, “I really only have like ten minutes before that conference call.” 

 

“I can do ten minutes,” Jane assures her, flicking her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, and getting a breathy, “Oh my god, fine” before she crushes her lips to Jacqueline’s again. 

 

Within two minutes, she’s got her breathing in that shaky way that makes Jane’s brain all fuzzy. Within four, Jane’s watching Jacqueline’s eyes roll to the back of her head while she fucks her slowly with her middle finger, pushing her hips with every thrust just to hear the quiet grunts she gets from that. Minutes five and six have them kissing almost desperately as Jacqueline really clings to jane now, whimpering little moans as she angles her hips toward her hand. At seven, she’s gasping and Jane can’t help moaning along. 

 

At minute eight, Jacqueline comes with her hand in Jane’s hair and her face in her neck as she muffles the sounds she can barely control, and then sags against the door, catching her breath for a few seconds. 

 

Jane lifts Jacqueline’s wrist up and eyes her watch. “Oh, look, a minute to spare.”

 

Jacqueline laughs, allowing Jane to button her pants. When their eyes meet, she shakes her head as if she can’t believe what she’s gotten into. 

 

Jane smiles and leans forward for a sweet, chaste kiss before pulling Jacqueline off of the door. “I’d tell you, you know. If I were seeing someone else.” 

 

“Noted,” Jacqueline nods, pulls the door open and before leaving adds a short, “Thank you.” 

 

Jane’s left wondering if she’s being thanked for the orgasm or for assuring her she’d notify her of any additional sexual partners, but she decides she doesn’t care. Maybe next time, they’ll try a strap-on. 


End file.
